


Flowers Bloom (Soulmate AU)

by revengingbarnes



Series: Flowers Bloom (Soulmate AU) [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Bucky Barnes Feels, Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Crime Fighting, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fanfiction, Flowers, Fluff, Marvel Universe, POV Bucky Barnes, POV Female Character, POV Second Person, Protective Bucky Barnes, Romance, Romantic Soulmates, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2018-12-06
Packaged: 2019-09-12 21:46:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16879812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/revengingbarnes/pseuds/revengingbarnes
Summary: Whenever someone is injured, flowers bloom on their soulmate at the area of the wound.She is born with flowers around her entire left shoulder.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally Posted on Tumblr (revengingbarnes)

Flowers were one of nature’s most beautiful creations, in your opinion. Their variety was endless. Colours you couldn’t even name, shapes you couldn’t even identify, and smells unparalleled by any other. Flowers were your version of romance, they fascinated you to no end.

Everyone around you seemed to believe you loved flowers because you had to love flowers. Since you had to live with flowers for the rest of your life. They weren’t too keen on the constant reminder these flowers served for you. People seemed to worry about others’ lives more than they did their own.

See, in your world, flowers weren’t just beautiful creations meant for lovely sights. In your world, flowers represented pain and injury to the person you loved the most. For every injury your soulmate received would be presented on your body in the form of flowers blooming at that place. You thought it cruel, how something so beautiful could represent hurt, pain and agony.

Having said that, flowers only appeared when injury was caused. But you, you were one of those few individuals who were born with flowers on them. Yours encircled your left shoulder joint, a beautiful assembly of roses, daisies, tulips and the supporting greens. It was like a sleeve, with your arm sprouting from the middle.

When you were little and started asking your parents why you had them and nobody else did, they said that was probably because your soulmate didn’t have a left arm, or there was a severe injury of another kind surrounding the whole area. But you’d never believed option number 2. You accepted that your soulmate was handicapped, not that it altered your view even in the slightest.

As you grew older, and your friends started to put together why you had flowers on your shoulder. They’d look at you in pity, often consoling you even when you didn’t ask. You’d roll your eyes at that and shrug them off. You didn’t care if your soulmate didn’t have an arm. It didn’t make you love them any less. They were your soulmate, and despite never meeting them, you were head over heels in love with them.

The advantage to your particular situation was the ease with which you could find your soulmate. Not a lot of people walked around with no left arm. And not a lot had an entire sleeve of flowers either. So both you and him would be extremely noticeable people. You knew you would never miss him even in a crowd, he would stand out instantly, just as you would.

Now all that remained was to find him. You would look, and you would wait, until you found him. Until you had him in your arms, and felt at home with his heart beat against your chest.

Your heels made click click click noises as you walked through the marketplace, looking at your GPS. Your cab had dropped you off at the main road, and you had to navigate through some tight areas to a run down apartment complex, soon to be your home for the next three years. The air in Bucharest was cool and light, brushing against your collar and making you bury your head further into your coat. You had to put up with a foreign language and a foreign country for the coming three years but you didn’t mind. It was a great opportunity to learn from one of the most capable doctors in the world. Working for him was a privilege you couldn’t pass up.

So when you had found out about the job offer, you had jumped at the chance. New York was starting to become suffocating for you, as you watched your friends meet their soulmates, get married and have kids. You were almost at thirty and no closer to meeting yours, and you wanted to get away. Escape. Bury yourself in your career so you could forget the fact that you were still alone.

You hadn’t been practicing medicine long, and most of your earnings had been spent paying off student loans, hence the state of your apartment when you kicked the door open. It had been stuck despite being unlocked and you huffed. You couldn’t afford a better place. This was the best you could get in your rent range. It was going to be a long stay.

You pulled out more comfortable clothes to change into from your little hand-carry. The moving guys had just dumped all your things in a heap. You had to start unpacking if you wanted to be done by nighttime.

This was not going to work.

You collapsed next to the bed, breathing hard and sweating profusely. The moving guys had been nice enough to assemble the bed for you. But the idiots did it in the middle of the room instead of near the wall, where a bed should be. You wanted to scream. It wouldn’t move under your force at all. You’d been at it for the past twenty minutes and all it had done was skid slightly to the right. Dawn was fast approaching and you wanted all this done by the end of the day. That didn’t seem like a possibility now.

You gave up then, standing up, throwing on a coat and walking out of your apartment into the entryway to take a breather, looking at the stairs in thought.

Maybe you should get someone from downstairs? But as far as your interaction went, people here weren’t very warm to strangers. You highly doubted someone would leave what they were doing to come and help you. You dismissed that option quickly.

You were just wondering what to do when heavy footsteps sounded on the stairs, jolting you from your thoughts. A rough looking man with a baseball cap covering his long hair appeared in your sights, shuffling up the stairs to your floor. You took a deep breath as he reached your floor. He briefly glanced at you before continuing on, towards the stairs that moved to the floor above.

“Um, excuse me?” He stopped to look at you, one step on the stair and one on the floor.

“Yes?” You mentally thanked all the gods above that he spoke English. You knew sufficient Romanian, but speaking English made you feel more comfortable.

“Hi. I’m sorry for stopping you. I just moved in and I need a little help pushing my bed against the wall. It won’t take more than five minutes of you could just…?” You gestured behind you at the open door.

The strange seemed to mull it over, shifting on his feet. Finally, he nodded and walked past you into your apartment, you following him. You pulled off your coat, not being able to stand the humidity in the room, and pointed at the the large bed standing in the center of the room.

“I just need it against that wall over there,” you moved towards the bed. “Hold on, I’ll help you.”

“No, it’s okay. I can do it.” His voice was soft, no trace of an accent, and you raised an eyebrow.

“You’re American?” The man seemed to stiffen before nodding slowly, not looking at you as he pushed the bed. It squeaked against the marble but slid a good two feet from the force. You stepped back. Guess he didn’t need your help after all.

You watched him work for a few seconds, arms flexing under his tight jacket. It occurred to you just how handsome this man was. His stubble did wonders for his bone structure, and his hair suited him nicely. You shifted a little, something about this man was extremely intriguing, but you couldn’t put a finger on it.

It helped that he was built like a brick shithouse.

“I’m American too.” You chirped. “Which floor are you on?”

He took a few moments to respond, still pushing the bed. “Seven.”

You grinned. “One floor above me, then. That’s great! I’m Y/N, by the way. What’s your name?”

He was silent again, and you felt that maybe he didn’t want to be friends. You were about to take your words back when he spoke. “James.”

“Well it’s nice meeting you, James.” You said as he straightened up, job done. “And thanks for this. I was at it for really long and it barely moved.”

He nodded again before turning to you, pausing as he looked at you. His eyes caught the flowers on your left arm, and you saw him noticeably stiffen at the sight. His eyes stayed on the flowers, body stiff as a board. He looked like he had seen a ghost. Your eyebrows furrowed.

“James, are you okay? It’s a bit much, I know.” You gestured to it. “But I’m used to it by now.”

He didn’t say a word more, nodding and walking out of the apartment. You followed him to the door.

“Thanks again, James. I’ll see you around?”

He nodded slightly hesitant, but didn’t say anything as he moved to climb the stairs. You shut the door behind you and sighed.

Maybe he just wasn’t a people person. Or maybe you made a really, really bad impression. But there was something about James, and something about the look in his eyes when he saw your arm….

You sighed, back still against the door. James made you feel strange, made your chest tighten and heart race. Something made you want to see him again.

But you were not sure he ever wanted to see you.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whenever someone is injured, flowers bloom on their soulmate at the area of the wound. She is born with flowers around her entire left shoulder.

It had been almost a week since you last saw James. You had been too busy with starting your new job and getting your apartment together. You had got new sinks installed in the place, and discovered that the thermostat was broken, hence why you felt like the apartment was on fire. It had been hell trying to get someone to come fix it with your limited spoken vocabulary in Romanian. Despite having taken a language course before you came here, you were still struggling.

You planned to buy the apartment soon instead of just renting it. It was just three years, and it’s not like you would have people over a whole lot. You would make it acceptable, even cozy. The owner had been all too eager to sell it away. Seemed like not many people enjoyed this particular neighborhood. You could understand why.

People here weren’t too keen on foreigners. They found it extremely annoying whenever you asked for help in any way. You tried to be as self sufficient as possible, but there were things you just couldn’t figure out all by yourself. That’s why you had been so relieved to find James. An American you understood you and was apparently good at Romanian as well.

But James seemed to be avoiding you like the fucking plague since your first encounter. You still remembered the haunted look on his face when he had first seen the flowers on your shoulder. And you still couldn’t shake the weird feeling it gave you. Maybe he was one of those sadistic assholes who didn’t believe in soulmates. Maybe he had lost his soulmate, and couldn’t stand to be around someone with such a big show of it over their body. You didn’t know what to think about it anymore. All you knew was that your one chance of potentially having a friend was most likely blown.

You were walking home after a long day of clinic hours when you saw his familiar hunched figure. He always walked like he wanted the ground to swallow him up and never spit him out. James and his quiet personality and mannerisms were so interesting. You couldn’t help but want to know more. You hesitated but made up your mind quickly, pace quickening to reach him.

“James!” You called. You saw his walk falter before he stopped and turned around, standing rigid. You sighed internally at how uncomfortable he seemed at being stopped and wondered if you should not speak to him. But there was something about him that you just couldn’t ignore.

James intrigued you.

You caught up to him and gestured at him to walk with you, which he complied, albeit hesitantly. He didn’t look at you directly. And you saw, with some disapproval, that he in particular avoided looking at the assembly on your shoulder. You took a breath. You couldn’t judge too quickly. You had to give him a chance. For his sake and for yours.

“How’re you doing? Haven’t seen you around a whole lot.”

He shrugged. “I’ve been busy.”

A silence followed after that, painfully awkward, and you shrugged. This seemed impossible. He wanted nothing to do with you. “Y’know, if you were uncomfortable around me, you could’ve just said. I’ll leave you alone now.”

You felt him stop walking, but your step didn’t falter. Something inside you wanted him to stop you, but he didn’t. You swallowed the disappointment it gave you and kept walking until you had reached your building, bounding up the steps.

…………….

The knock on the door startled you, and you pulled an earphone out of your ear to listen again, thinking you had mistook some other noise for a knock. But it came again, this time louder. You hit pause on your laptop and stood up, straightening your clothes.

You didn’t know who you were expecting on a Sunday. It was your one day off and you couldn’t help but be a little annoyed at whoever had decided to interrupt. You trudged to the door and put your eye to the peephole.

James’ huge figure entered your sight. He stood with his side facing you, eyes on the ground. His hands were buried in his pockets as he waited for you to open the door.

You took a deep breath, heart jumping in excitement, but you willed it down. He was probably here because he had to. Probably wanted something. You thanked morning you for mustering up enough energy to put on jeans on a Sunday, and pulled the door open.

His light blue eyes met yours, expression serious has always.

“Hi.” You leaned against the doorframe suddenly self conscious.

“Hi.” His voice was soft, you almost didn’t catch it. “I…. I wanted to apologize for the other day. I didn’t mean to be rude. I just…” He shrugged, looking like he was struggling with his words.

You shook your head, heart skipping. “It’s okay. I mean, I’ve been told I’m too enthusiastic and I tend to scare people off so..”

He shook his head, almost vigorously. “No, you were fine. It was me.”

You grinned at that before stepping back. “Wanna come in? Only if you want to, you don’t have to.”

James seemed to hesitate again, looking at you… looking at your arm. He nodded, and walked in, leaving you standing there and wondering what his deal was regarding soulmate flowers. You shut the door and followed him. You’d ask him at some point, but you weren’t at that level yet. You weren’t even acquaintances.

James seemed quite hesitant, shy almost, until you gestured him to take a seat on the couch.

“Sorry for the mess,” you picked your laptop up and pushed your blanket over the back of the couch. “I didn’t really expect company. But I’m glad you’re here.”

James nodded again and you walked to the adjoining kitchen.

“Would you like coffee? I just made a fresh batch.”

“Coffee sounds great.” You smiled at his voice, not being able to help yourself. You knew you were acting uncharacteristically strange, in a way that you never had before. You took a deep breath.

James has an arm, Y/N. He’s not yours.

You did feel disappointed about James having an arm, as bad as that sounded. You had been thinking about him a lot, not being able to help yourself. He always seemed to enter your thoughts. And you’d see him outside every once in a while, when you went off to work or came back from it. He seemed to be everywhere. You couldn’t understand your body’s reaction to him.

Maybe that’s what happens when you’ve been alone for so long. You start being attracted to roughed up strangers who aren’t meant for you.

Coffee didn’t take long. You walked back into the living room with two cups into your hands, handing one to him, which he took with a small smile.

All you could think about was wanting to see him smile more often.

Stop it.

“So, uh…. where in America are you from?” You asked, trying to keep your distracting thoughts at bay.

“New York.” He replied, gloved hands holding the cup tight as he took a sip.

“You can take those off, it’s really hot in here.” You gestured to the gloves. “The thermostat is still not working, even though the guy who came to fix it claimed that it was fine.”

He shook his head. “N-no, I’ll keep them on.” He set the cup down. “I can take a look if you want?”

You stared at him. “You’d do that? Oh, that would be so great.”

He nodded and stood up, following your lead to the kitchen. James took a look at it, brushing his hair out of his eyes. You noticed how soft it looked, though slightly unkempt. His jaw clenched in concentration as he worked with the tools still laid out for fixing the damn thing. You couldn’t help but stare at his arms flexed under his shirt.

You talked while he worked, helping him hold and move whenever he needed. You told him about your job, the doctor you worked for, the cases you got to treat under his supervision. James nodded at all the right places, and asked questions. You were glad to see he was genuinely interested in what you had to say.

However, you still noticed how he would deflect questions directed at him, only answering if they weren’t too personal. He made you wonder, made you think so hard about his story. Why was he in Romania? What brought him here? A job? A loved one? The environment?

There was so much you wanted to know about him. You wanted to know him inside out.

He stayed for an hour, and by the end you felt like you knew him a little bit better. Not the facts, but his personality was pretty clear. He was polite beyond belief, but funny, and confident once he got over all his hesitation problems.

But his smiles were small, and they never reached his eyes. His eyes. There was something about them that unsettled you. They were the eyes you saw on injured patients in the ER, who just learned about how many people they had lost in an accident that didn’t kill them. They were the eyes of the girl who killed her parents while she was sleepwalking.

They were haunted eyes.

When you slid under the covers of your bed that night, the room considerably cooler thanks to James, you felt your inner self fighting what you felt, trying to tell you this wasn’t right. You knew people hooked up all they wanted before they met their soulmate, having fun and sleeping around with random people. But that wasn’t you. You had promised yourself a long time ago that you were for your soulmate only. And James wasn’t your soulmate.

So why did he feel like he was?


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whenever someone is injured, flowers bloom on their soulmate at the area of the wound. She is born with flowers around her entire left shoulder.

“It’s actually not that hard. Just twist your arm while you’re applying the force.”

“Easy for you to say. You have 200 pounds of muscle backing you up.”

Laughter erupted from him before he could help it. He tried to smother it when Y/N looked back at him with a grin.

“Focus.” He tried to rid himself of her stare, enough to send shivers down his spine. She turned back to the mound of cables, taking his advice and twisting her arm as she connected them one by one.

His eyes caught the proud ensemble on her shoulder again, and he felt the familiar ache of the past few weeks. He traced the roses and daisies with his eyes, fingertips yearning to run over the delicate display.

He wished once more to hold Y/N in his arms, kiss her like he had always dreamed he would do. But of course, he restrained.

Bucky remembered the time before shit went down. He remembered meeting girls he found interesting, using a needle to prick his fingertip and waiting with bated breath to see if a little flower would bud on their finger. He remembered feeling disappointed when it wouldn’t, then shrugging it off and telling himself he’d find her when the time was right.

He had been so wrong, because this was the worst possible time to find Y/N.

He was a fugitive on the run. Bucky Barnes, the Winter Soldier, hunted by who knows how many parties and trying to lay low. Bucky Barnes, murderer, assassin, living in an apartment in a strange country trying day after day to gather broken memories.

He wanted her, so bad. But she would never, ever want him.

Murderer, that’s what he was. He had destroyed so many lives. There was no doubt in his mind he’d destroy hers too.

Like every time he was with her, Bucky heard his mind scream at him to get away. To turn and never look back. Find a new place and start over. But he couldn’t. He wasn’t that strong. He had finally found her, after so, so long. He couldn’t let her go.

But he couldn’t have her either.

“Earth to James?” A hand was waving in front of his face. Bucky blinked, eyes focusing on Y/N, who sat facing him.

“You zoned out for a second there.”

Bucky smiled and shrugged. “Just thinking.”

“Penny for your thoughts?” She giggled getting up and walking to the sink to wash her hands.

“Random stuff.” Bucky picked up a stray nail from everything scattered around them, pressing it into the pad of his right index finger. He watched, heart beating fast as a small white flower sprung out of Y/N’s skin.

“Whoops,” she giggled. “Someone nicked himself.” She held up her finger for him to see as he clenched his hand, hiding his wound. He smiled at her.

“I’m bored of stringing wires together. Let’s do something else.” Y/N continued. “Hey, a patient gave us a box of red wine a week ago. It’s supposed to be really good. I got three bottles. Want to try it?”

Bucky got up and moved to the couch. “Bring it on.”

……………….

Three large glasses of wine later, Bucky stopped, claiming he was getting buzzed. Of course, alcohol had no effect on him, but he didn’t say that fact out loud. Despite his stopping, Y/N didn’t let up. She chucked down another three, giggling at the silliest things on TV. Bucky felt warm and tingly, and a smile never left his face. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt this happy, this content. He took care to sit on Y/N’s left side, right arm towards her, since she had a habit of gripping what was next to her when she laughed too hard. He couldn’t risk her coming anywhere near his left arm.

It was dark by the time Y/N turned the TV off, bored by everything on at the time. She was humming a tune to herself, and Bucky sank into the cushions of the sofa, letting her voice wash over him. He blinked his eyes open again when the humming stopped, turning his head to see Y/N already looking at him, eyes soft, almost sad.

“What’s wrong?” He whispered, too afraid to disturb the silence, the comfort, the light feeling he felt right then.

“We could be so much more than you let us.” Her voice was just as soft as his.

Silence settled upon them, heavy but comforting, despite her words. Bucky didn’t expect anything else. He was her soulmate as much as she was his. Of course she would feel this way. He just didn’t expect her to fall this soon. He felt a wave of longing crash over him as her eyes searched his.

“Y/N…”

“I feel terrible when I think this way about you,” she was staring up at the ceiling now.“Because you’re not him. Why are you not him?”

Bucky stared at her, feeling tears gather in his eyes. He willed them back.

“But then, then you smile and I just… I fall all over again.”

Bucky’s breath caught in his throat at her words, fists clenching with the effort to not touch her. He debated whether he should tell her. She was drunk. She wouldn’t remember this. Maybe he could just say it, just so he could make himself feel better.

“You’re not the one, so why does this feel so right?”

Bucky didn’t think before he leaned forward, face inches from hers. She turned her head to look at him. Her breath hit his lips and he felt his muscles clench. He shouldn’t do this. He couldn’t do this.

He lets his lips graze her cheek, heart in his throat when he felt her breath hitch. For a moment, he wished they could stay like this forever, in a world where all was silent and calm, no one but them, where he wasn’t a wanted criminal and fugitive, and where you wouldn’t be in danger just by mere association with him.

For what felt like the hundredth time, Bucky wished he were someone else. Someone better. Someone….. not him. Of course it felt right to you.

Because I am. His mind whispered, but his mouth didn’t move. Because I am him. I’m yours. Y/N, I’m yours.

He finally let his lips come in contact with your cheek, feeling his entire being shake at the action. Now he understood why people lost their minds trying to find their soulmates. This feeling was….. indescribable.

Slowly, as if it took a lot of effort, Bucky stood up, grabbing the blanket draped over the back of the couch and tucking you in with it. Your eyes were half closed, breathing slow, and he could see you were minutes away from checking out.

He didn’t look back as he let his feet carry him out the door. Maybe if he knew what was going to happen tomorrow, maybe he would have stopped. Maybe he’d let himself look at you longer, deeper, to engrave your face in his mind forever. 

If he knew what was coming, maybe he would have kissed you.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whenever someone is injured, flowers bloom on their soulmate at the area of the wound. She is born with flowers around her entire left shoulder.

You woke up with a stiff neck the next day. Blinking to clear your bleary eyes, you lifted your head up, yawning and looking around. The living room was as you remembered it, cluttered with wires and nails, reminding you of James.

You looked towards the adjoining kitchen, but you didn’t see him. You lifted yourself up slowly, a headache was already forming. You let yourself assume he had shown himself out last night.

You tried to remember what had happened the night before while you fixed yourself a cup of coffee and a grilled cheese sandwich. You remembered trying to fix your stereo and James talking you through it, hence the wires. You remembered busting out the wine and turning on the TV, laughing and making fun of stupid soap operas.

You flopped back down on the couch, pulling the blanket over yourself again and flipping the TV on. You stared at the blanket, coffee in one hand and remote in the other. Something had happened last night, but you couldn’t put a finger on it. You felt, rather than remembered, something warm ghost your cheek, and you let out a breath. It frustrated you that you didn’t remember. All you remembered was the jump of your heart when it happened.

You flipped through channel after channel trying to find something that could occupy you while you ate. You moved past a news channel screaming about something. Eyebrows furrowing, you moved back, setting your coffee down on the table in front of you and leaning forward.

…… an attack at the United Nations conference at Vienna to ratify the Sokovia Records…… murder of King T’Chaka of Wakanda….

… security footage shockingly reveals the culprit to be James Buchanan ‘Bucky’ Barnes, also known as the Winter Soldier….

You stared at the screen, frozen. There was a ringing in your ears, as you tuned out what the reporter was screaming about. A picture of a man was plastered on the TV, a man with a baseball cap covering dark hair.

Your limbs felt like they weighed a million pounds, your eyes wide open.

James Buchanan ‘Bucky’ Barnes, also known as the Winter Soldier.

Gasping, you stumbled back until you fell onto the couch, only then becoming aware that you had been standing up.

Bucky Barnes. James was- James Buchanan Barnes….

The reality seemed too big, too shocking for you to take in. Your mind raced and even your thoughts were tangled. Your brain scrambled for information you had read or seen over the years about both Bucky Barnes and the Winter Soldier. You remembered the file SHIELD had released online when HYDRA tried to take over. You had been fairly interested in all the happenings, and you had read every word.

Bucky Barnes was Captain America’s best friend. You remembered the display of him you’d seen at the Smithsonian a few years ago. He was an honorary SHIELD agent, and a… Howling Commando, was it?

The Winter Soldier was one of the most popular conspiracy theories on the internet. Well, less of a conspiracy and more of a reality when HYDRA turned out to be real and was taken down by Captain America. He had assassinated over 30 people in 50 years. Three years ago, the news had revealed that the Winter Soldier was actually Bucky Barnes.

You opened your eyes to fix them onto the screen, hyper aware of every little detail of the grainy picture. There was no doubt about it. It was clear as day.

James, your friend, your neighbor, the man you had accidentally fallen in love with, was none other than James Barnes, the Winter Soldier.

You stood up on shaky legs as soon as you formed the realization in your head, slipping into your shoes and making your way to the door. When your hand hit the handle though, you froze.

What are you doing? Your mind seemed to whisper to you. Going to confront him? And then what? What if he kills you for finding out?

“He won’t.” You said out loud, hearing the tremble in your voice. “He’s not the Winter Soldier. He was brainwashed.”

But your feet carried you back to the living room, where the TV was still on. You were afraid. You knew Bucky Barnes and Winter Soldier were different people. That much was clear from all the reports you had read. But the fact that for two months or so, you had been friends with this person and not even known he had all this… history , that was what terrified you.

You seemed to replay everything he had said and done. You remembered his hesitations, his deflections, his rigid demeanor, which he slowly lost but lay just beneath the surface.

Maybe this was why he was in Romania. To escape, to start over, to find out who he had been. But if that was the case, he couldn’t have bombed Vienna. He was here just last night. Unless he caught a flight there, bombed the place, and then come back in less than a day. But that wasn’t possible either. They had shut down all flights out of the country within a half hour of the bombing.

Your mind was going on and on, explanation after explanation, question after question, worsening your already present headache. Your face scrunched and eyes screwed shut as a pang of pain shot through your forehead, making you take in a shaky breath.

The TV was blathering again, feeling the need to remind everyone of who the Winter Soldier was. They had a full report going on him now. You stared as the man on the screen shot guns and threw knives. His face was covered. He wore all black, the only thing setting him apart was his characteristic metal arm.

His metal arm.

Once again, as if a repeat of twenty minutes ago, your mind started racing, thought buzzed. Assumptions flowed.

His metal arm.

Something flashed in your mind, as if your brain was forcing you to recall. A pair of gloves. No, not just gloves. Gloves in hands, hands holding a coffee cup. Hands you never really saw because they were always covered.

As if your subconscious was pulling out all the stops, you remembered a certain left arm pushing your bed, your king sized huge ass bed, making it skid a good two feet towards the wall, apparently no effort needed. You had dismissed it, thinking he was just that strong.

The Winter Soldier has a metal arm. James Barnes has a metal arm. Because he lost his arm in the war.

He lost his left arm.

You let out a strangled noise, wanting to scream, but you couldn’t. No noise escaped you. Your chest was tight, you couldn’t breathe. You stared at the screen. You stared at the gleaming silver arm, at the red star on the bicep. Your eyes fell on your shoulder, the flowery scent entered your nose.

You felt lips ghost your cheek, your heart skipping a beat. You heard James laugh. You felt the cold of your bed sheets as you lay at night, staring at the dark and trying to will away your feelings for him. Feelings that you had no control over. Feelings that, after all the guilt and the frustration, were apparently justified.

Bucky Barnes was your soulmate.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whenever someone is injured, flowers bloom on their soulmate at the area of the wound. She is born with flowers around her entire left shoulder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay Chapter 5! This is kind of a filler? But important because it lays down the stage for the next chapter! Tell me what you guys think xx

There were gunshots outside the apartment. Gunshots and bangs. Grunts and cries of pain. Still, you didn’t move.

You wanted to move. You knew it was the cops. Here to get James- Bucky. But you knew it would be a whole new level of stupidity to poke your head out right then. You’d end up getting killed in an instant.

You could hear everything that was going on. This building had paper thin walls, it was like everything was happening right in front of you, but without the visual.

Apart from the bangs, bombs exploding and bones being crushed under kicks and fists, you couldn’t be sure who was winning. You prayed that James.. Bucky.. would be alright. In the last 24 hours, you had evaluated this situation inside out. In no way was Bucky involved in the Vienna bombing. And you knew that as far as this bombing went, he was innocent.

You hadn’t seen him since that night he had almost kissed you. You hadn’t left your apartment, rather spending your time thinking and trying to get used to all the information you had gotten. Bucky hadn’t stopped by either, not since the news had started screaming about him. You guessed he wanted to lay low, maybe even disappear for a while. The thought of him leaving scared you, but you didn’t think you could face him to stop him leaving, even if you tried.

You had spent the entire day yesterday in a weird state of numbness. The only notable action you had done was call in sick for work, other than that, you had either stood, sat, or lain somewhere around the apartment. Thinking. About what? Even you weren’t sure now, but it all had to do with Bucky in some way. You had promised yourself you’d go see him the next day, talk it out.

But now, it was the next day and the police were here to get him. Every gunshot, every punch and kick, it sent a stab of dread shooting through you. You didn’t even care if he stayed here or not, you just wanted him to be alive.

You had seen footage of the Winter Soldier fight. And if Bucky retained even half of the training he had received in the past half century, he’d get away. You were confident of that.

It took a good hour for all the noise to completely seize. After every last person had cleared out and it was silent, you finally headed out of your apartment.

All along the walls of the stairways were bullet holes. Powdered concrete was scattered here and there, making it a little difficult to breathe.

Bucky’s place was trashed.

The windows were broken, the door was broken, the walls had bullet holes in them, his mattress had the stuffing leaking out from the holes in it. Dust and smoke had settled on the floor and the shelves. The characteristic smell of gunpowder lurked in the air and filled your nostrils. Your nose scrunched up at the feeling.

You’d never been to Bucky’s place, mostly because he was always over at yours. The most you’d done was knock on his door to make him come out, and you’d never seen the inside.

The material inside was so minimal, it saddened you in a way.

It was just his bare necessities in the place. He didn’t even have a bed, for Christ’s sake. You took a deep breath and tried to push away your thoughts, because the more you looked around, the more it seemed like he was ready to leave as soon as shit went down.

Somehow, Bucky had anticipated that someone would come after him.

You started rifling through the place then, knowing you had little time before the authorities came to seal the place down. There had to be something here that could help you figure out where Bucky could have gone. You had to find it before anyone else did.

Because if you couldn’t be with him, you would at least do your best to keep others away as well.

There was a notebook on the shelf, covered with a layer of debris. You fished it out shook it a little to clear the dust, tucking it under your arm. This notebook was the only thing that could help you right now.

The next few hours were spent drinking in every word of the notebook. Bucky’s handwriting was loopy and messy, but easily discernible. By the end of your search, you put the notebook down and huffed, falling back onto your bed. You stared at the pages around you, things you had circled and highlighted, thinking they might be significant. But the longer you looked, the more hopeless it seemed.

It contained nothing but memories. Facts. Stories in pieces. Any other day, you would have cried your heart out at the clear depiction it gave of a broken man. But today was not that day. You needed locations, or any information that might lead you to Bucky. But there was nothing.

You stared at your shoulder again, reaching a hand up to run along the delicate petals. Your mind replayed the feeling of Bucky’s lips against your cheek, and you felt tears spring into your eyes. Your heart yearned for him, and it was starting to hurt.

The doorbell rang.

Your body froze at the sound, before pushing into overdrive. Hands shaking, you gathered up all the papers on the bed, pushing them beneath the mattress. You deleted your laptop history, cursing as the bell rang again. You ran to the door, pausing in front of it to take a deep breath before you pulled it open.

Tony Stark stood in front of you, wearing an expensive looking tux, but sporting a bruised cheek as well. There was a metal armour encasing his hand.

“Y/N Y/L/N?”

You nodded, eyes wide. This couldn’t be good.

“You’re going to have to come with me.”

You shook your head almost immediately. He knew. You knew he knew. It was written all over his face. His eyes were on your shoulder.

Damn it. You could have slapped yourself for not covering the flowers. If he had any doubts, they were confirmed now.

“You have to come with me,” Stark repeated, taking a step forward. You closed the door halfway immediately, giving him a warning look.

“You have no right.”

“Actually, the Secretary of the State - his name is Everett Ross by the way, look him up - ordered me to do whatever it takes to bring Barnes into custody. If you’ve turned on the TV in the past few hours, you know that he’s currently running rampage in Berlin, killing as many people as he can lay hands on. If I can get him back by taking you, I’ll gladly arrest you right-”

“Wait, he’s doing what?” Subconsciously, you pulled the door open again. “He’s… killing people? What-” You paused. “You triggered him, didn’t you? You triggered the Winter Soldier!”

Stark rolled his eyes. “Look I have no idea what you’re on about and frankly, I have a lot of shit that I need to get done so..” He gestured downstairs. “I don’t want to call someone to come drag you out. So it’s my request, please come with me instead of making a scene. Because I’m not afraid to make one if you force me.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whenever someone is injured, flowers bloom on their soulmate at the area of the wound. She is born with flowers around her entire left shoulder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay Flowers Bloom is coming closer to an end! Maybe like, one more chapter and an epilogue? Let me know how this one is!

Everything was going wrong.

Bucky watched from the car as Steve talked to a blonde girl in a suit about something, but his mind was elsewhere. He wondered what Y/N was thinking. He wondered what she thought when she saw the TV. She’d have found out who he was. Bucky felt his chest squeeze as he wondered what she thought of him now.

Did she see him like he saw himself? A stone cold killer with no conscience?

A small part of Bucky hoped that somehow, Y/N wouldn’t hate him as much as he hated himself. But it was all wishful thinking. He brought nothing but trouble wherever he went. The last few days had proved it. Steve going through so much shit for him was clear proof of that.

“Can you move your seat up?” He said to Sam, trying to distract himself from his thoughts.

“No.” Sam’s reply was curt and Bucky sighed internally. Steve was doing all he could to help him, but Sam wasn’t making it easy. Bucky could understand where he was coming from. Didn’t mean he had to like it, though.

His heart jumped when he saw Steve kiss the girl. He couldn’t help his smile at the act. He’d have to ask Steve about her. She had to be something special if Steve even thought of kissing someone other than Peggy. Bucky felt for his best friend. Never meeting your soulmate was one thing, but having them and then losing them before you even got the chance to experience that bond? It was a whole new level of rough.

He thought of Y/N again, he thought of her skin under his lips that night, her half open eyes in the dim lit room. He felt the soft blanket under his fingertips, the heat of her skin under his lips. His throat was closing up with the effort to not cry.

A part of him was glad that she was far, far away from all this mess. He was eternally grateful that she was nowhere near when he went into Winter Soldier mode. He’d sooner die than let her see him like that. But he couldn’t help that a part of him didn’t want to leave her alone. When she was in front of him, he could breathe easy because he could see that she was safe. Now, now she wasn’t here, and Bucky just couldn’t be sure. Of course, she was probably in her apartment right now, sleeping or reading.

This is for the best. He told himself.

The airport was deserted when they arrived there. Bucky couldn’t believe they had made it there so smoothly. It seemed a bit strange that no one had intercepted them along the way. But he let himself believe that he would finally get out of Germany, off to Siberia to find the rest of the super soldiers and put them down.

Of course, it was too good to be true.

Stark was there at the airport, suited up and tense. As soon as he saw the man, Bucky could feel a fight coming. He felt his muscles tense like they always did before an attack. He looked at Steve as they walked and they had a silent conversation. Get to the plane, get the hell out of here. And don’t let them catch you.

They had enough people backing them up, of course. But so did Stark. This was going to be an all out battle, Bucky realized. He hadn’t decided which way he wanted it to go.

“Barnes!” Stark called, a good ten or so feet away. “I have something of yours. Turn yourself in and she’ll be unharmed.”

Bucky’s blood ran cold.

He knew who it was. Of course he did.

His eyes left Stark and settled on two moving figures walking up to them. Bucky sucked in a breath as he felt the blood drain from his face.

Romanoff was leading Y/N up to where Stark stood, holding her arms behind her back. Bucky felt his anger surge when she stumbled under the former assassin’s fast pace. His eyes caught the flowers on her shoulder, and he felt tears pool into his eyes as panic set in. They stood proud on her shoulder for everyone to see, despite what they represented. Despite the fact that they were why Y/N was in this mess in the first place.

“Bucky,” Steve hissed. “Is that- it can’t be…”

“Yeah.” Bucky whispered, knowing Steve had figured it out. He’d be stupid not to, what with the flowers contrasting the black of her shirt and Natasha’s suit.

“All of you, drop your weapons. Barnes turns himself in, and we let the girl go.”

The atmosphere was tense as Stark spoke. A lone tear trailed down Bucky’s cheek.

“She goes back to Romania.” Stark continued. “She goes back to her life, her job, her friends.”

Steve shifted to Bucky’s right. He heard Sam curse.

“But if you don’t,” Bucky’s chest felt constricted. It was getting harder and harder to breathe. “She goes to prison under the charges of assisting a mass murderer. And with that murderer being someone like Barnes, that’s give or take fifteen years. And you know exactly what happens to inmates in prison.”

Bucky caught her eye then, he saw the unshed tears stagnant in her eyes.

“Bucky…” she whispered, but it was loud enough for him to hear.

She called him Bucky.

His face scrunched and more tears trickled down. He didn’t hold them back this time. He couldn’t. His shoulders felt heavy, his chest was stiff, and his throat felt clogged up. Bucky was tired. So tired. He could take so much.

But Y/N was a line crossed. He could take so much. But he couldn’t-

“Bucky,” her voice was louder, cracking at the end. “Don’t do it. Please. Bucky listen to me, you need to go, you need to get out of here. I can handle this. Don’t- Bucky don’t even think about it.” Romanoff clapped a hand on her mouth, muffling her voice.

Stark’s face was hard. And Bucky knew, if he didn’t agree, he wasn’t going anywhere. There would be a shootout, and you’d get hurt in the crossfire.

“Buck-” Steve voice was helpless. He knew they had lost. He knew what Bucky would do. Bucky didn’t look at him.

He could take so much, but even he had a point that was enough.

And he had finally had enough.

“Okay.” Bucky breathed, voice cracking under the weight of his tears, looking Stark in the eye. Y/N stilled next to him, eyes on Bucky. “Okay.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whenever someone is injured, flowers bloom on their soulmate at the area of the wound. She is born with flowers around her entire left shoulder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go the LAST CHAPTER! There will be an epilogue though :)

They had you in separate cars, all of which were black and nondescript. The rumble of the engine was muffled to your ears. Across the car with you in the backseat sat the redheaded woman who had brought you out in the airport. Ironically, she kept her distance now.

You wanted to hit her.

And you wanted to hit everyone on that damn airport. You wanted to rip them all a new one. And you particularly wanted to slap Bucky across the face.

You felt tears prick your eyes again as you remembered the look on his face, the tears that streamed down his cheeks, the slump of his shoulders when he accepted defeat. Accepted his head on a chopping block.

Just to keep you safe.

You didn’t know what they would do to him. But you knew for a fact that it would be bad. Your fingers fiddled with the hem of your shirt, eyeing the car in front of you. Steve was in that car. You had watched him be shoved in. And the car in front of that was Bucky’s.

“A private jet will fly you to Romania tomorrow first thing in the morning.” The woman next to you said. “You’ll be at your apartment by tomorrow noon.”

Your face hardened at her voice.

“Screw you.” Your voice shook with anger as you spoke, glaring daggers into her face.

“I’m sorry.” Her voice was soft. “It wasn’t supposed to be this way.”

“I doubt it.” You bit out, then turned to look out the window, effectively ending the conversation.

“I'll…. it’ll be okay.”

You didn’t reply.

…………………

You sighed as you clicked your last suitcase shut, staring at the black cover for a second longer before turning to face your room, wondering if anything was left.

One ticket sat on the coffee table, dated a day from then, to land in JFK Airport, New York. Your eyes swept over the living room, eyeing everything in case you forgot to take it. Your gaze fell on a heap of tangled wires, two of them sitting apart from the heap, with twisted ends. You looked at the two glasses on the coffee table, a little drop of red at the base of both.

Tears rolled down your cheeks before you could stop them, dripping from your chin. Your shoulders shook as a cry escaped your mouth. You were so tired. You were exhausted. You wailed as your knees connected with the floor, slumping forward under the weight of your emotions. Your heart physically ached, hands clenched into fists, nails digging into your palms hard enough to draw blood. You snapped your head to the side to look at the flowers on your shoulder.

Anger surged through you next, though it was nothing compared to your pain. Your opposite hand reached out to grab one of the flowers, a stark white daisy, and you pulled.

You yelped out as the flower ripped from your skin, pain shooting up your shoulder. Blood dripped through the remaining ensemble to trickle down your bare arm. You looked at the crushed flower in your hand, white splattered with a dark, dark red. Your tears didn’t stop.

Someone was banging on the door.

Your anger was still pumping, fueled by your agony. Your shoulder burned.

“Go away!” You screamed as loud as you could, trying to let out all you were feeling in those two words.

The banging continued.

Yelling in frustration, you stumbled onto your feet, hands still crushing the daisy. You staggered all the way to the door, almost ripping in open to glare at the person outside. It banged against the wall, the noise as loud as a clap of thunder.

Her eyes widened at your state, staring at the blood that dripped down your arm.

“You…” You looked at the red hair. It was the same woman. “The nerve of you to come back here..”

“I got Barnes out.” She rushed to explain. “He’s leaving the country in twenty minutes. I told him and Steve to hold it while I got you.”

You stared at her, trying to process her words. “Y-you..what?”

“The King of Wakanda decided to take him in. Turns out Barnes was innocent. Better to bust him out and make him disappear than try to convince the authorities.” She looked over your shoulder into your apartment. “Get a bag ready, we have to go.”

You stepped back. “Already have a bag packed.”

………………….

The woman, Natasha, her name was, stared at you as the car moved under you. The situation was eerily similar to two days ago. She cleared your throat before focusing on the road again.

“Are you okay?” She gestured to your arm. You looked down at it. Blood had dried on your skin, a dark maroon now instead of bright red. The skin was still ripped and tingling, but it was slowly stitching itself back together, the neighboring flowers spreading over it.

The flowers would bloom again. They had done so your entire life. You opened your hand to see the daisy in your palm, crushed into red and white pieces.

The prospect of seeing Bucky again warmed your chest. The extreme weight you had been carrying for so long lifting, lifting off your shoulders. You lowered the window, held your hand out, and under Natasha’s watchful eyes, let the wind take the crushed flower pieces from your hand.

“I’ll be fine.” You whispered.

……………………..

The airplane hangar was silent as you and Natasha made your way towards the moderately sized quinjet standing in the center. Your boots made thudding noises every time they came in contact with the concrete floor, the noise louder in the silent air.

The guys from the airport were all there. Along with the one you wanted to see the most.

Your heart thudded at the sight of him, tight black combat gear covering his body except his metal arm, which was bare and displayed in all its silver glory. His eyes met yours, and that’s all it took for you to break into a run.

He met you halfway, arms wrapping around you to bring your bodies together, not an inch of space between you two. Tears stung your eyes once more but you willed them back. No more tears. No more crying.

You pulled away long enough to pull his face down and meet his lips.

The sensation was…. unimaginable, indescribable. It was like lights had come on in a home that had been dark for years. It was like sinking into a warm bath after an excruciatingly long day at work. It was like dancing in the cold rain and having the little icy droplets prick you gently as they slid down your bare skin. His lips molded into yours gently, holding your bottom lip between his own.

A hand came up to cup the back of your head softly, tangling in your hair. It was more firm than what you expected and you smiled into the kiss, knowing which hand in was.

Your fingers caressed his face, his stubble rough under your hand. His tongue entered your mouth, hot and wet, making your breath hitch. You sighed at the same time he inhaled, body pliant against his.

“As disgustingly emotional as this is, one of you is still a fugitive of the law so…”

You pulled away, dazed and unfocused, breath heavy. You turned around to face the voice. It was coming from the guy with the metal wings. You giggled, feeling a soft bliss settle over you. Arms wrapped around you from behind. Lips pressed against the skin below your ear. You smiled, feeling more peaceful than you had your entire life.

“Time to leave, doll.” He whispered.


	8. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whenever someone is injured, flowers bloom on their soulmate at the area of the wound. She is born with flowers around her entire left shoulder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so it ends! God, this series has been a whole ass journey! I love and appreciate every single person who read it, and all those who left feedback! You guys are gems xx

The first thing you heard when you woke were children’s feet puttering across the ground and laughing as they chased each other. The first thing you felt when you woke up was the warmth of a strong arm wrapped around your body, and your back pressed against something solid. You were too comfortable to move just yet, body pliant and soft.

Bucky shifted behind you and his grip on your waist tightened. His nose nuzzled against your neck, pushing your hair away. You smiled at the feeling, sighing as he peppered kisses on your skin. You shivered and turned around to meet pale blue eyes.

He was just as comfortable as you, it appeared. You brushed a strand of hair behind his ear, and he hummed.

“Morning.” His voice was deep and heavy with sleep, making you smile. You couldn’t help but press your lips to his. He grinned against your lips.

“Morning.” He replied. “I love you.”

You giggled and buried your face into his neck. “I love you, too.” You felt him press a kiss into your hair.

Children were still talking and playing outside the hut. The sound of water crashing at the banks of the lake entered your ears as well. The characteristic smell of fresh air filled your nose.

“We should get up.” You could hear the reluctance in his voice. You groaned and pressed yourself closer to him.

“Let’s just stay here for a little longer. You’re too warm.”

You felt his body shake with laughter and he pulled away just enough to look at you. You felt peace settle over you at the content look in his eyes. He reached a hand out to thumb the petal of a small, fresh white daisy on your shoulder. It was still growing and blooming to replace the one you had ripped out. You shivered at the feeling on Bucky’s fingers brushing against your skin.

“Did I tell you how much I love you?”

You grinned and moved slightly, feeling Bucky’s bare skin against yours. Humming, you pretended to think.

“I don’t think you did.” You lied. “Remind me?”

Bucky grinned, catching on to what you were doing. You were so in tune with each other, most of the time it took one look to guess what the other was feeling. You felt like you and Bucky were one. And you loved that.

Bucky kissed you then, slow and hard, making you sigh and arch into him. His hand was running over your bare side, stopping to dig into your skin. You smiled into the kiss, knowing what was coming as Bucky rolled on top of you.

The Wakandan air was crisp and cold in the morning, but not uncomfortable. In the distance, the children were kicking a football around the field, still laughing and chattering amongst each other. In the early hours of the morning, tranquility had settled over the entire kingdom. Everything was calm. Everything was quiet. Everything was exactly where it was supposed to be.


End file.
